


Every Symbol Tells A Story

by ruric



Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M, Three Sentence Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's never quite met a woman like Abby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Symbol Tells A Story

**Version 1**

Dean’s known a lot of women, in both the biblical and not-so-biblical sense, but he’s never quite met a woman like Abby.

He shows up, they hang out, he leaves: she’s a free spirit and she never, ever, asks him questions he can’t answer – considering her line of work that’s damn near close to a miracle as far as Dean’s concerned and it’s easy and uncomplicated.

Until the day he pushes the weight of her hair up to kiss the back of her neck and sees an intricate line of symbols he’s never seen before - and god damn it he’s calculating the distance from the bed to his jacket and weapons as her head turns - but it’s too late because her eyes are bleeding to black and there’s not enough time in the world.

 

**Version 2**

Abby Scutio is really something else – as if the tiny skirts and big boots and pigtails weren’t enough - there’s the bone shakingly loud music, the addiction to Caf-Pow and the whole Goth sensibility – the first time Dean met her he thought he’d died and gone to some off-kilter version of Heaven where his wildest wishes would be granted; turns out he wasn't far off base.

Abby’s easy too – not in the roll over and give it up sense, though she is a free spirit – but she allows him his privacy, doesn’t ask questions he can’t answer and she doesn’t ask him to keep in touch which is a small miracle in itself.

He thought what they had was uncomplicated until the day he sees a small replica of his tattoo on her hip, surrounded by a weaving circle of symbols he doesn’t recognise; the questions catch in his throat and she just sends him an enigmatic smile and says “When you’re ready to talk I’m ready to listen”, presses him back down into the tangle of sheets and pillows and proceeds to make him forget all about the Apocalypse for at least a few hours.


End file.
